AN: It feels like forever since I've updated, mainly because I spent the last weekend at the very first official Salt Lake Utah comic con (and my first ever, it's gonna be a while before I stop bragging about it xD) and haven't had time to do anything but tell my parents about it, show them the things I bought and autographs/pictures I took, and then head straight to bed because after months of just sitting on my laptop, I've been walking and standing for hours.
The most fun. Exhausting. Most amazing thing. That has ever happened to me since returning to the states.
*screams*
Special Thanks To:
The One Named Moonlight
chocykitty
The Boogerman
K-star
Mystichawk: Wow, thank you so much for the remedy! I haven't had the chance to try it yet - I'm fresh out of mint tea, lol, but that sounds freakin' delicious!
Frost
Pitch: You just made me laugh out loud xD
Satoshistar: Why thank you, I try my best :)
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The Meaning of Fear
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Envious
The man with the green eyes.
It was slightly disappointing to find that the child did indeed inherit such beautiful eyes from her father. Pitch wasn't sure why though; because it seemed more elegant if it was maternal? Or because eyes were the windows to the soul, and April held a warm, gooey feeling whilst her father's eyes were hardened and cold?
The man was tall, with dark blond hair slicked back neatly and finished with a suit and tie. He wore square, grey-colored glasses on the bridge of his nose. Despite having her mother's face, the resemblance between father and daughter was painfully obvious between the expressions they made; from the shape of their lips as it turned up in a smile to the dimples adorning their cheeks. The attitude - edged around April's four years of child innocence - was similar as well. A small detail, one that Pitch had never bothered to think about before, was the birth mark both shared on the side of their neck. It was light, and barely noticable, but with careful observation you could spot it easily.
"Daddy!" April cheered, jumping up and down as the man opened her bedroom door.
Pitch's eyes narrowed from the window. He was just about to open it when the stranger walked in to embrace his daughter and toss her in the air. Her giggles could be heard as the two played, and Pitch suddenly felt sick to his stomach.
Why is she so happy?
He scoffed at the disgusting display of joy. How dare she have fun in front of him!
As the two humans settled down, they exchanged muffled words that Pitch didn't bother to interpret. Mr. Darling (the name Pitch secretly mocked, for it was such a girly name for an American man) made a motion with his hand over the girl's head, as if commenting on how tall she may have gotten.
"My, how you've grown!" Pitch imitated, flaunting his hands in a girly fashion as his voice rose a few octaves higher. "Please," he finished normally. Of course the child had grown. That's what happens over time and you're not there to witness it!
April skipped happily as she held on to her father's hand. She was all nice and bundled up, with her thick pink jacket and dark green scarf. Her daddy even bought her a new hat at one of the booths set up in town! Even though her nose was pink, and she had to sniffle because of the cold, the little girl couldn't feel any happier.
All of New York was celebrating the Christmas spirit, with lights drawn on every building and the street lamps turning from red to green. The sky was sprinkling a light snow fall, and the wind wasn't rowdy, and instead calm and still.
Pitch blanched, and then turned to sneer at a black cat batting at his hair. It looked at him dully, as if saying 'No need to put your anger on me, dude." and walked with its nose up into the nearby alley.
"Stupid cat," he hissed back, ignoring the fact that the feline had already gone.
Several hours he had to endure this: Dealing with only animals that could see him and watching April act so . . . so . . . happy with her dad and not paying the slightest bit of attention to him.
How insulting!
How could she be so happy? Pitch was surprised she even recognized this man as her father, considering how long he seems to be out of her life at a time.
How many weeks fly by before April sees her male parent? Three? Four? Does she wait as the months just slip away? How many strangers has Mr. Darling paid to look after his own child?
These many questions, glossed over with his own, negative answers, made Pitch's black blood boiling hot.
He should have left the two on their little father-daughter date. April seemed too happy for him to bother. He could have spent his time doing something more useful elsewhere. But something stopped him; compelled him to stay nearby. Maybe it was because he didn't trust this man claiming the name of a father.
Whatever it was that kept him there, he decided not to question it. So he stood in the shadows, watching over them with the eye of a hunter.
A hunter? No. Pitch knew what it felt like to be a hunter; a predator ready to pop out for the fear-inducing kill. This feeling, one that left a welling lump in his chest, was different.
The sun had set and the two had made their way to an outside skating rink. It was surrounded by booths with food and tables. Christmas lights covered the surrounding half-walls in criss-cross formations and the ice was filled with humans of all ages.
"Stay here, my Flower," Mr. Darling said sweetly, much to Pitch's annoyance. "I'll get us some hot chocolate with marshmallows."
April nodded quickly and sat at a small round table with three seats. She swayed her head to the instrumental music of 'Jingle Bells' and kicked her feet back and forth.
Pitch took this chance to slide into the seat next to hear. Turning to him with the brightest smile he had ever seen, April waved one of her green mitten-covered hands.
"Hi, Nightlight!" She greeted.
He twisted his lips, not trusting himself to give a decent response. What is wrong with me today?
After a second of silence, April clucked her tongue and tilted her head. "What's a matter?" she asked. Pitch shrugged, his lips now pressing into a thin line.
"Nothing," he said stubbornly. "I just felt like coming to this particular area today and saw you. I thought about breaking the ice skating ground. Seems fun."
April slumped her shoulders. The corner of her lips dipped down into a pout as she looked at the dark king. "That's not nice," she muttered. "You can't do that!"
His eyes narrowed. "And why not?"
"Cause!" she squeaked. "What if somebody twipped and hurt their . . . their . . ." as if she were trying to find the right word for the body part, April held up her elbow and tapped it with her mitten-hand. "Their arm-corner."
"Elbow." Pitch automaticaly corrected, finding himself chuckling at the girls antics before shaking his head. "Foolish child, what does it matter to you?" A lot worse things could happen should the ice break, he thought.
April stuck her nose up, like saying, 'As a matter of fact . . .'
"When I came here with Kaylee once a time, I falled and my elbow was all purpley and blue. It was an ugly color!" She scrunched her nose at the memory, as if wondering why the human skin couldn't be prettier; like a sparkly pink or a cute button yellow when it bruised.
"And now you're here with your father, hm?" He said, looking back at the man who should have returned by now. It took Pitch a second to find him, but in that miniscule amount of time he briefly wondered with disgust if the man had left his daughter here. It was a thought he couldn't help, and he quickly pushed away what he felt as concern when he spotted Mr. Darling down by on of the booths, but not in line. Instead, he was holding a phone to his ear and chatting quickly, his expression tight.
With a glance back at April, Pitch cleared his throat. She seemed to be humming something in her mind because of the way she wiggled her head and shoulders from side to side. With another cough to gain her attention, Pitch laced his hands in front of him on the table and hunched close to her.
"What are you going to do if you can't go skating today?"
"Huh?" April looked back to where her father had run off. The moment she understood that he was having a long conversation with somebody on the phone, she frowned and slouched back into her chair.
He looked her in the eyes. The disappointment had always been there; it was surprising that he never noticed it before. Her legs now hung loosely off the edge of her seat, and her shoulder dropped. She scratched her head through the thick winter hat and took a deep breath.
"Well . . ." she started slowly. "Then we'll play again next time."
Pitch was always surprised by the girl's maturity, no matter how true-to-her-age she acted at times. Mr. Darling wasn't on the phone anymore. But with the look on his face, and turning away from the hot chocolate booth, April knew their father-daughter date was going to get cut short. Again.
I must be mad, Pitch thought bitterly as he stepped into this dream world for the second time. After his first visit, he vowed to never return to such a headache-inducing scenario. But here he was, dodging swimming fish from the air and stepping around (or missing) the animals chasing each other under his feet.
It was different from last time though. April's world was no longer colorful and wild. Instead, it was mixed with shades of blues and white. The sky above rippled in waves, crashing against the clouds and sprinkling the earth below with a peppermint-smelling snow. Each flake was shaped like flowers or rabbits.
She really needs to find something better than these hopping fluffyballs. What ever happened to bears?
"You're back."
The voice was April's. But Pitch knew that it wasn't. It was much too low and mature to be her's.
Internally he cringed. But outwardly, he let his disdain show.
"Don't look surprised, Black. I knew you would be."
"And how could you possibly know that?" Pitch spat. He turned to face the little girl who took the form of April. Instead of answer, she merely tilted her head and gave a one-sided smirk.
"She's over there, by the way." she said after no other response was given. The girl pointed East, and suddenly a scene appeared there that wasn't before. A large pond, surrounded by a few benches appeared. Sitting in one of those benches was a small figure, peering sadly into the water as she threw rocks into it.
Pitch didn't bother asking how the Guardian of April's consciousness knew why he was here. It wasn't worth the argument. Instead he consciously felt for the two pairs of skates hidden beneath his robes. One large and black, with white laces, the other small and pink.
considering that this was the dream world, Pitch didn't need to announce the reason for his presence. Instead he stubbornly stood next top the bench and looked at the floating rocks April had thrown into the pond.
Floating?
He took a closer look and was surprised to find that the pond was really a pond at all. It had no water, instead in swirled in a milky pit of blackness with stars. Yellow, red, and orange speckles of dust floated clockwise, creating the image of a galaxy in the ground. How peculiar. A sky of waves, like the ocean, and a pond of the skies.
More fish swam in the air by his face to which he swatted them away. Taking a deep breath, looking composed and not at all awed by the design of the little girl's mind, he cleared his throat.
"Are you wishing to skate?" he asked. April sat back and sighed.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Daddy had to go back to work."
He remembered how disappointed April was as the headed back home. How she dragged herself to her room, and how she plopped herself into bed and silently cried herself to sleep. Anger welled up from his stomach as Pitch thought of these images.
"You're father is a fool." He said darkly. April blinked up at him, surprised.
"He is." Pitch continued. "If he can't find the time to spend with his daughter, he should not have children at all."
He regretted the words as soon as he spoke them. Not because he spoke ill of April's father, but because he wasn't sure she would fully understand them. It sounded as if he said April shouldn't even exist at all.
"But, no matter!" He started again quickly, as not to let her dwell on his words. "We are here now and we will . . . skate."
He surprised even himself when he saw himself included in the little scenario played in his head.
"Really?" April brightened, beaming a too-happy smile at him.
"Yes, yes, really." He said, holding out his hands to keep her from bouncing up and down.
He snapped his fingers, and digging within April's memories, the pond grew and formed into a large outside-skating rink. The space-like image of the water still kept its design as it turned into ice, and as they moved across it the dust would move along with them. Like marble.
Shadows emerged from the ground up, taking the shape of April's young friends, and images of other random people to make the world more homey. Christmas music chimed from the trees, and even the animals sang in human chorus as they lined against the edge.
Nonsense, he told himself. This is total nonsense. I really have gone mad.
April nearly squealed in excitement as she took in the new world before her. Her face, previously dominated by sadness, now beamed with joy. Pitch looked at her and now saw the one glowing sun in the midst of this shadow-filled crowed.
"Come on, April!" A boy called out. A close friend from her memories, with dark hair and bright, bright blue eyes. She seemed very surprised to see him there, and gave Pitch a look as if she were asking permission.
He motioned to her feet, which were now covered with her pink ice skates and watched as she held on to his robes to keep her balance. She didn't need to - she could sprout wings and fly if she wished - but it seemed more out of instinct. Pitch didn't bother to correct her.
"What is the matter?" he asked as April curiously examined her new skates.
"They're pink," she said simply.
"Yes," Pitch rose an eyebrow, confused.
Shrugging her shoulders sheepishly, April looked up at him. "Can you make them gween?"
"Green?" he asked. "I thought you liked pink?"
"Gween is my favoritist color."
Her entire room is a chaotic pink mess.
"Daddy thinks I like pink 'cause it's girly, but I likes gween more."
Sighing, Pitch tilted his head to her shoes, indicating their change of color. With another high-pitch squeal that had the Nightmare King cringing and rubbing his ears, April jumped up straight on to the ice to join the other shadow-children resembling her friends.
Standing there for another minute, Pitch crossed his arms and looked on with a satisfied feeling in his stomach. Now there was a better image of April: smiling, laughing, and just having no care in the world around her.
He wasn't at all bothered by the lack of attention he received this time around. After all, why be envious of humans he could simply make disappear with the snap of his fingers?
April stopped in the middle of the frozen pond, scanning the outside for someone. As she caught his eye, another grin broke out on her little face and she waved excitedly. She then brought her hand out beckon him on the ice.
"Let's play, Nightlight!"
A/N: Awww, this story is almost halfway over! :'( But don't worry my loves! Pitch's adventures are long before over!
I hope you liked this chap, so please review!
Next Chapter: Bonus - Fun
A sneak peak at April in daycare and how Pitch influences her life when he's not even there. April is trying to draw a picture of Pitch for Christmas and a little friend decides to help her out.